Nevermine
by Scripta Lexicona
Summary: Ficlet inspired by illbewaiting's "good-bye Sora".


AN: As I said in the summary, this ficlet was inspired by illbewaiting's "good-bye Sora" found at http: // illbewaiting. deviantart. com/ art/ good-bye-Sora-68041373 (you know the shpiel, take out the spaces).

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**Nevermine**

There is a tower rather separated from the others which sticks out over the water quite a distance. It's not the tallest but it's high enough to afford a panoramic view and Riku likes it the best. (As well, he knows he will not be bothered here. The Heartless tread rarely but where their mistress has confined them and their mistress rarely moves beyond her own chambers and that of the Keyhole.) A large opening in one side invites him to sit on the edge and dangle his feet out into space. He thinks it might have once been a balcony although it's difficult to tell. The stones are sheer to the side of the tower, no chunks protruding to show where the platform might have been. But Riku is sure the king would never have built something so dangerous. Despite what it largely looks like now, this castle was created for comfort, elegance and beauty.

Once, Riku might have been happy here, even though there is not much to this world. (Whatever had happened was clearly been devastating.) The fortress is expansive, hundreds of rooms on many levels, devices and mechanisms he's never encountered before, calling out to him to unlock their riddles. And those are just the places he's able to reach. There are areas he cannot enter, most deep within the castle, which undoubtedly hold a number of this citadel's secrets.

And then there is the water.

That within and directly surrounding the castle holds to no natural laws that Riku is familiar with. But beyond the rising falls, far enough out into the ocean, he can swim and dive into the depths. He can't dive far or swim long because, despite the practice of regular dips though Destiny Islands' waters, the currents here are simply too strong and more often than not he's had to use his newly acquired powers to get himself back to dry land.

He still likes to try every now and again though because there is a world under there, or rather, the _rest_ of the world. The ruins of a sprawling village composed of what must at one time have been quaint little houses and shoppes, sprawled out lazily in some places and carelessly cuddled together in others. Random wide open spaces that might have once been parks or gardens. Crumbled cobblestone roads, silted mud lanes, blue tiled courtyards. All of it telling a long-ago story that Riku can't understand the words to and may never learn.

His hand tightens reflexively on the wooden handle of the play sword resting next to him and his jaw clenches. In his idleness his fingers had been tracing long-worn letters barely visible now except to one who knew what to look for. _S-O-R-A_. One thing Riku had always promised himself was that he would never regret. He might not ever get to all the new, exciting places he'd always dreamt of, and he might never have any more interesting adventures than the ones he'd had with Sora on the island. But whatever happened, he would enjoy his life and not regret the things that might have been but never were.

Yet now, now that his dreams seem to have come true, now that he is free of the Islands, travelling to so many new worlds, learning so many new things that he could never have even imagined before … he regrets. And it's all because of _him_.

Barely sparing the action a thought, Riku summons Sora's Shadow. It wisps into existence in the empty air before Riku, bright yellow eyes glowing with what Riku has come to interpret as a sort of blind obedience.

It's really _not_ because of Sora, Riku knows it. He's at the center of everything Riku regrets, yes, and more often than not the driving force behind all the paths Riku has been following. But the truth is that Sora himself has done nothing to deserve Riku's blame or his ire. Of course, this knowledge only serves to heighten that ire.

He had always thought that Sora needed him, to be his guide, his protector, his leader, and to find that that isn't necessarily true, that Sora can not only function on his own but be a leader in his own right … it has tilted Riku's worldview and caused him to lash out in stupid and childish ways. Namely in the taking of what Sora wants the most. Or, at least, what Riku _thinks_ Sora wants the most. He has to admit to himself that he really doesn't know _what_ drives Sora anymore. Perhaps he never really did. Which is the most terribly depressing thought to have about one's best friend. Especially when one has been questioning the validity of that label "friend."

"Smile," Riku orders, finally looking directly at the Shadow. The lips stretch over an empty hole in a poor parody of genuine joy or amusement.

"Laugh." The head is thrown back, mouth open wide, body shaking as a hand clutches chest, holding back the noiseless cacophony.

"Relax." The fit of convulsions abruptly ends and the Shadow lifts its head, arms crossed casually behind it, elbows akimbo, one leg lazily overlapping the other at the ankles. This is certainly the best imitation the Shadow manages. If Riku can ignore the eyes, pretend he's looking at some detailed silhouette, it's almost like the real thing, almost like he's here, so close….

"Touch me," Riku whispers as he shuts his eyes, partly because he can't bear to see that it's not actually Sora and partly because he can't bear the look on the Shadow's face. He has no idea if the creature feels anything or not – (Actually, that's a stupid question. It's a Heartless. How could it feel?) – but it gives a very accurate impression of being heartbroken, as though it knows it can't give Riku what he wants and wishes so badly that it could.

Fingers brush ever-so-softly along Riku's cheek, stroking reverently down his jaw. They are not warm or cold. They are solid but are so insubstantial they might as well be nothing at all. The digits are careful to stay flat along his face, not accidentally scratch him with the sharp points this type of Heartless seems bound to display, regardless of the shape. Not that Riku really cares if he bleeds a little.

_This could be him. He could be under your command some day, just like this._ The voice is so faint, so deep in the darkest places of Riku's mind that he's not sure if it's his own or someone else's. He never has been. He's been hearing whispers of it ever since the Island although there it was so drowned out he was barely aware of it. Until that night. When everything was ruined.

_He will _never_ be like this,_ Riku retorted with a small spark of defiant anger. No, he doesn't know if this is his own voice or not, but either way it's _not_ what he believes, _not_ what he wants to be like. _Sora is too strong for that, his heart too whole._ Not like mine, he adds to himself in a place where he thinks the voice can't hear him.

_That remains to be seen. There is power in a pure heart. But there is power here, too. And pure hearts do not always understand what needs to be done, what should be done to open up the secrets of the worlds._

Riku opens his eyes and stares dully at the Shadow which has ceased its touch and is merely hovering, waiting for its next command. That voice, whether it's his own ego or something else, is getting more and more difficult to ignore. It says the things he wants to hear, tempts him with visions and ideals and his long-ago dreams. He doesn't know if he'll be able to find his own path or become trapped upon its by dark and thorny walls.

But there is one thing the voice and the Shadow and all the Heartless in all the worlds and all the _power_ in all the worlds can't produce for Riku and it is the only thing he truly truly desires.

"Sora…."

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8 Oct. '09


End file.
